Mountain Apparition

There is an old man that runs a little ma and pop gas station on a winding country road. No one knows his name. 25 cents for a soda, gas $1.15-the place is frozen in time. He's there with his sweet, quiet wife and ancient dog, he's been there longer than you can remember, longer than your grandparents can remember...

Out on your back porch, with the temputure still 73 degrees at 1:00 in the morning you hear a deranged laugh ring through the woods. You blame it on the coyotes.

The spring air is heady with the raunchy scent of Braford pears and blossoms of all kinds litter the ground. The heavy snow comes late, freezes the birds and kills the flowers. Winter has the last laugh.

Your footsteps crackle on the long gravel road, echoed by your friend's The friend that lives in the shady sprawling trailer park. Someone's pet peacock cries out. You pause in front of the tiny graveyard. Someone's family, buried by the sewer lines of the trailer. You hope they're at peace. Your eyes drift to the flaking paint of the weeping Jesus statue. You don't think they are.